Fleeing the Great Bear
by Waddles52
Summary: My take on how Mulder got to St. Petersburg after his escape from the gulag.


Title: Fleeing the Great Bear  
  
Author: Waddles52  
  
Rating: PG 13  
  
Classification: MT  
  
Spoilers: Fill in the blank for Terma. Brief   
  
mention of The Host and End Game.  
  
Summary: We didn't get to see how Mulder managed to   
  
escape and make his way back to civilization. This   
  
fic is my take on that.  
  
Disclaimer: Not for profit. Just for fun. Since   
  
this episode had such a gaping hole in it, I felt it   
  
was my duty to fill it in. I did borrow some of the   
  
dialogue from Terma, written by Frank Spotnitz and   
  
Chris Carter.  
  
Archives: Please ask, but I usually say yes.  
  
Thanks: To Lisa for the beta and the title and to my   
  
husband for putting up with me while I watched and   
  
rewound my video a kazillion times to get the opening   
  
scene just right.  
  
The big, bearded man kicked the door open and threw   
  
the defenseless man into the simple hut where he   
  
landed in an undignified heap on the floor. "This   
  
son of a bitch ruined my truck!" The man shouted   
  
vehemently in Russian, disgust and anger evident in   
  
his voice.  
  
A woman quickly moved from the table where she had   
  
been reading by the light of a kerosene lamp and   
  
helped the unexpected visitor stand and make his way   
  
to the table where he slumped into a chair. "Be   
  
careful with him. He's hurt." The woman admonished   
  
the man, her gentle hands checking him for injuries.  
  
Fox Mulder caught his breath and was thankful that he   
  
had at least been thrown into a building, allowing   
  
the slightest bit of warmth to seep into his body in   
  
many hours. He was surprised to be there at all. He   
  
had been sure that the irate truck driver would take   
  
him directly back to the gulag as soon as he had been   
  
pulled from his hiding place under the dead leaves on   
  
the forest floor.  
  
The bearded man continued to speak as the woman   
  
fetched their visitor something to drink. "We can't   
  
keep him here. They're looking for him."  
  
"You shouldn't bring him here if you don't want me to   
  
take care of him." The woman looked at the shivering   
  
man sympathetically as he drank greedily from the tin   
  
cup.  
  
"He's not staying!" The man walked outside and   
  
angrily slammed the door.  
  
"Kak va za voot?" The woman kindly asked what his   
  
name was as she began to examine the wound on his   
  
head.  
  
"No Russian." Mulder shivered.  
  
"American?"  
  
"Tell your husband I'm sorry about his truck." Pain   
  
and exhaustion were evident in his voice.  
  
She examined Mulder's arm, lifting his sleeve to   
  
reveal the needle puncture site. It was red and   
  
inflamed and had been a source of agony since he had   
  
awakened in his cell with the memory of the black oil   
  
pouring onto his face. "The test?"  
  
"Yeah." Mulder was relieved that she could speak   
  
English. He shivered again. Even though they were   
  
inside there was very little heat. He could see   
  
their breath in white swirls as they spoke.  
  
She sighed and shook her head. "They kill everybody   
  
for the test."  
  
"Why don't they kill you?"  
  
"My husband makes deliveries. They spare our lives,   
  
but now . . .no truck . . .he is afraid." The woman   
  
seemed almost apologetic as she answered.  
  
"I have to go now." Mulder knew he must leave and   
  
soon.  
  
"No."  
  
  
  
"They'll come looking for me. They'll come looking   
  
for you." The FBI agent knew he was a danger to   
  
them. He didn't know how far he would get in his   
  
present condition, still reeling from the effects of   
  
the test and the truck crash. Throw in a little   
  
exposure and he was feeling decidedly ill, but the   
  
safety of this kind woman was more important.  
  
"No, there are other ways."  
  
Mulder's tired mind couldn't grasp what she was   
  
saying. "I don't know what you are talking about.   
  
What other ways?"  
  
"Grisha!" the woman called. A haggard looking young   
  
boy of about 13 entered from the back room, his shirt   
  
tied in a knot below the remains of his left arm.   
  
"No arm. No test."  
  
Mulder gasped, his eyes growing wide with horror.   
  
"Dear God, no! That poor boy," he thought as he   
  
tried to come up with the words to make her see.   
  
"You don't understand . . .these tests. The smallpox   
  
scar on your arm is some kind of identification. You   
  
have to help me escape. I'll help you escape. You   
  
have to help me get to St. Petersburg."  
  
The door crashed open and Mulder spun around to see   
  
the truck driver standing in the doorway, a large   
  
knife in his hand. A look of fear passed over the   
  
American's face as the man fingered the weapon.  
  
He made his way over to Mulder and threw the knife on   
  
the table. "Since you have stolen my livelihood, my   
  
protection," he spat, "It is only right that you   
  
should also be the one to take my arm."  
  
Mulder's face registered shock. He shook his head no   
  
despite the pain that lanced through it.   
  
"Yuri, no!" The woman scrambled from her chair and   
  
embraced him. "He can help us. Please give him a   
  
chance." She led him to the table where he sank into   
  
a chair, defeat etched in his features.  
  
"What is your name, American, and what can you do to   
  
get us out of this hell hole?"  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Mulder rested on the rickety bed in the back room,   
  
wrapped in a thin blanket thinking that he would   
  
never feel warm again. They had dined on a watery   
  
vegetable stew and the black bread that was common to   
  
the area. Though much better than the roach-infested   
  
gruel at the gulag, it had still fallen short of   
  
filling him up. These people led a hard life made   
  
even more difficult by the fear forced upon them by   
  
the conspirators and their experiments.  
  
He shivered again as he heard Anna and Grisha   
  
gathering the meager supplies they would be taking on   
  
their hastily planned journey. Yuri had talked a   
  
friend into transporting them as far as he felt he   
  
safely could in his battered, old, pick-up truck.   
  
From there they would have to walk a fair distance   
  
until they could catch a train into St. Petersburg.  
  
Yuri came in, urging them to hurry. Mulder took that   
  
as a signal to haul his weary body from the bed. His   
  
head was pounding, whether from plain exhaustion or   
  
the tests he had no idea. He was only aware of the   
  
relentless pain behind his eyes and an ache in every   
  
joint in his body. He stumbled and was surprised to   
  
find Yuri quickly at his side, steadying him as he   
  
tried to catch his breath.  
  
"American, come. We must hurry. The sun is going   
  
down and it is best to drive at night. Bring the   
  
blanket. We will be riding in the back of the   
  
truck."  
  
Mulder wearily followed him out to the truck where   
  
Anna and Grisha were already squeezed into the cab.   
  
Yuri climbed up into the bed of the truck and   
  
extended his hand to Mulder. He gladly took it and   
  
sank onto the pallet that had been arranged in the   
  
bed of the truck. He closed his eyes and Yuri   
  
pounded on the grimy back window. "Pavel, let's go.   
  
The Quadavitch family is leaving this hell hole!"  
  
Mulder heard the roar of the engine and felt the   
  
truck bounce over the rough terrain, rattling his   
  
battered and abused body. Despite the discomfort, he   
  
was sleeping before they had gone a mile, hoping not   
  
to dream of the black oil on his face crawling into   
  
his nose and eyes, a deep shiver going through him at   
  
the thought.  
  
He awoke with a start when he realized the truck was   
  
no longer moving. It was daylight, probably late   
  
afternoon he judged, noting the position of the sun.   
  
He had been asleep for almost twenty-four hours! How   
  
was it that he still felt so weak and tired?  
  
Yuri climbed into the bed of the truck. "American,   
  
come. Pavel must go home now and we must walk to the   
  
train station. Get your blanket and follow me."  
  
Mulder did as he was told, dizziness nearly knocking   
  
him to his knees when he jumped off the truck. Once   
  
again, Yuri was there to steady him. "We must walk   
  
until the sun goes down. Are you able?"  
  
Mulder nodded yes wearily and followed Yuri into the   
  
forest where Grisha and Anna waited. They rose when   
  
the two men entered the small clearing. Without   
  
another word they began to travel west.  
  
When it was almost dark Yuri finally called a halt to   
  
their trek for the day and Mulder was grateful. He   
  
slid to the ground beside a huge tree and propped   
  
himself up with the trunk as a backrest, feeling the   
  
last ounce of strength leaving his body. The FBI   
  
agent could only remember one other time when he was   
  
this exhausted.  
  
Waking up in the hospital in Alaska had been   
  
catalogued with his good memories. Scully had been   
  
by his side and he recalled the huge smile plastered   
  
on her face when he finally came out of the coma.   
  
They shared a few words before he was overcome with   
  
unbearable fatigue. Now, he was experiencing that   
  
same feeling without Scully and her smile. Oh, how   
  
he missed her!  
  
"American!" Mulder's thoughts were interrupted when   
  
Yuri pushed a hunk of bread into his hands. Next   
  
came a jug of water. He drank greedily and once   
  
again rested against the tree, picking off small   
  
pieces of the bread to eat. He was almost too tired   
  
to swallow. He put the bread in his lap and a small   
  
groan escaped before he could even think about   
  
stopping it. Anna was immediately at his side, her   
  
soft, warm hand taking his in concern. With his eyes   
  
shut for a second he could almost believe.  
  
"Mulder?"  
  
"Mmm." He couldn't get his mouth to work. All his   
  
body knew now was the relentless pain from his head,   
  
his aching joints and the fire of the injection site.   
  
He wrapped the blanket tightly around his body as he   
  
shivered, more from his fever than the cold.  
  
"Drink this," Anna ordered, putting a small jar of   
  
clear fluid in his trembling hand. He tilted it up   
  
and swallowed a small sip, surprised at the liquid   
  
fire traveling down into his stomach.  
  
Vodka! Very strong vodka! He began to choke and   
  
sputter, then relaxed as a warm feeling took over his   
  
entire body.  
  
"Thanks," he managed as Anna felt his forehead.  
  
"You have fever."  
  
Mulder shook his head in agreement. That effort cost   
  
him as shards of pain sliced through his head.  
  
"Another swallow." Anna pointed at the jar of vodka.  
  
He complied, this time managing to get it down   
  
without choking. With shaking hands he returned the   
  
jar to her, amazed that he hadn't spilled it. He   
  
watched as the kind woman spread a blanket on the   
  
ground and beckoned him to lie down.  
  
Mulder accepted her invitation and moved over to the   
  
pallet. Surprise registered on his face when she sat   
  
beside him and began to massage his temples. Yuri   
  
and Grisha looked on knowingly as he began to relax   
  
under her ministrations. Soon the pain was more   
  
manageable and his eyes began to close, the vodka   
  
still warming him from the inside helping to wash   
  
away some of the discomfort.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
If he thought he was tired the night before, he   
  
quickly realized how wrong he had been. After   
  
walking since dawn with only a few brief stops, he   
  
found a whole new meaning to the sensation. Yuri   
  
called a halt when the train station came into view.  
  
"American, we'll catch the first train out, but we   
  
will probably have to wait until morning. Do not   
  
talk out loud. You'll draw attention to us. Just   
  
pretend to be ill and let Anna take care of you."  
  
Mulder nodded carefully. He wouldn't have to act.   
  
He was ill.  
  
The station was small, furnished with six long   
  
benches. Anna motioned for him to lie down and put   
  
his head on her lap. She whispered to him soothingly   
  
in her native tongue as Yuri and Grisha went to   
  
purchase the tickets. "We had a few coins saved and   
  
Yuri begged our friends for the rest. We have good   
  
friends," she smiled as she switched back to English.  
  
"I'll repay you when we reach St. Petersburg," the   
  
exhausted man whispered back.  
  
"Rest. We still have a long journey on the train."   
  
When she looked down the man's eyes were closed. She   
  
felt sorry for him, but he'd been lucky to escape.   
  
He would be weak and ill for a while from the   
  
testing, but it could have been much worse. Many   
  
died the first time.  
  
Anna couldn't help but wonder what would become of   
  
them when they reached St. Petersburg. She hoped she   
  
hadn't been wrong in trusting the American.   
  
After Yuri and Grisha returned with the tickets, Anna   
  
left Mulder to find a place of her own to sleep on   
  
the hard bench, first making sure he was as   
  
comfortable as possible, careful not to disturb him   
  
as she moved. She needn't have worried. The   
  
American slept the sleep of the dead.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Where had the nighttime hours gone? Once again   
  
Mulder found that he had slept straight through and   
  
still felt like hell when he woke up. He looked   
  
around, hoping to locate the facilities, and found   
  
Yuri pointing outside, a huge grin on his face. The   
  
truck driver motioned for him to follow and Mulder   
  
soon found himself outside facing the foulest   
  
smelling outhouse in the world. The flukeman and the   
  
sewers of New Jersey paled in comparison. Yuri   
  
motioned for him to go first and the FBI agent soon   
  
found himself inside, vomiting everything that he had   
  
put into his stomach since the gulag.  
  
The nausea had been threatening off and on since the   
  
gulag, and the heaving of his stomach brought the   
  
headache back full-force. Explosions of pain burst   
  
behind his eyes. Weakness finally overtook him and   
  
he sank to his knees, still vomiting. Mulder felt a   
  
large pair of hands on his shoulders, holding him   
  
steady. Yuri! Who would have thought that the   
  
angry, tough truck driver image was really a cover-up   
  
for a kind, compassionate man?  
  
When the stomach spasms eventually stopped, the   
  
Russian helped the federal agent to his feet and   
  
practically carried him to the train where Anna was   
  
pressed back into service as a nurse.  
  
"You must seek a doctor when we arrive in the city,"   
  
she ordered, reaching to feel his forehead.  
  
"No," Mulder answered softly, trying to make himself   
  
comfortable in their private car. Thank goodness   
  
Yuri and his friends had enough money to splurge on   
  
the last leg of the trip.  
  
Anna rummaged around in her bag and came up with some   
  
water. Mulder turned down her offer and pulled the   
  
blanket around his shoulders as tightly as he could.   
  
His stomach began to roll again and he swallowed,   
  
barely managing to keep it under control.  
  
The shivering began in earnest again as the train   
  
blew its whistle and began to slowly build up speed.   
  
A doctor in St. Petersburg was beginning to look   
  
better and better. "How long . . .Petersburg?" A   
  
particularly violent chill shook him, taking some of   
  
his words.  
  
"About 30 hours with many stops," Anna supplied.   
  
"Sorry, but it's the only train available."  
  
"Don't apologize. It's fine, better than I expected.   
  
Would've died . . .without . . .help." Little black   
  
dots began to swim in his vision, followed by a   
  
roaring sound in his ears. Mulder knew that feeling.   
  
He managed to choke out a strangled plea for help   
  
before he slumped over, landing limply in Anna's   
  
arms.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
The train was still moving but the motion wasn't   
  
bothering him as much as it had at first. His mouth   
  
felt like it was full of cotton and the injection   
  
site on his arm was sending out sharp pain signals.   
  
The ever-present headache seemed to have improved a   
  
bit. He decided to try and sit up but only managed a   
  
pitiful groan when the pain assaulted his joints.  
  
"Mulder, you mustn't try to move."  
  
The agent managed to pry his eyes open and found that   
  
his head was once again in Anna's lap. "What   
  
happened?"  
  
"You passed out. Your fever has been very high. How   
  
are you feeling now?"  
  
"A little better."  
  
"Yuri searched the train for a doctor and found one   
  
in the next car. He said you have to drink. You   
  
have an infection in your arm and something with your   
  
head, a cushion, I think." Anna looked exasperated.   
  
"My English . . .sorry, I don't know all the words."  
  
"It's fine. The word is concussion. Must've got it   
  
when I crashed the truck."  
  
"Mmph." That was evidently still a sore point with   
  
Yuri.  
  
"The doctor put an injection in your hip and left   
  
these tablets to take." Anna shook a white tablet   
  
into her hand from a small envelope. "He says it is   
  
most important to take them. Without . . .you could   
  
lose your arm or worse."  
  
Since he didn't like either alternative, Mulder took   
  
the pill and drank a good portion of the water that   
  
was offered by the Russian woman.  
  
"Now, rest. We still have many hours before we reach   
  
the city."  
  
"Yuri, thank you."  
  
"Don't worry about it, American. Just be sure to   
  
carry out your end of the bargain."  
  
"I will." Mulder's eyelids began to droop and no   
  
amount of effort on his part could keep them open.  
  
Later Anna once again expressed her worry about   
  
Mulder to her husband. Yuri admitted that he was   
  
worried too, not only for the man's health but also   
  
for their own well-being. If the American was unable   
  
to help them, the little Russian family was stranded.   
  
There was no turning back.  
  
His wife chided him for thinking that way. "He is a   
  
good man. I can feel it."  
  
Mulder shifted in his sleep and moaned, but didn't   
  
wake up. Anna felt his forehead once again. "His   
  
fever is still high. Look in my bag, Grisha. I need   
  
a handkerchief. Yuri, would you soak it with water,   
  
please?"  
  
She took the wet cloth from her husband and began to   
  
bathe Mulder's pale, sweat soaked face.  
  
"Sc . . .Scully?" He appeared disoriented as he   
  
looked around. "Where? Scully?"  
  
"Shh, you're safe, Mulder. We're on our way to St.   
  
Petersburg."  
  
"Anna?"  
  
"Yes, it's Anna. How are you feeling?"  
  
"Feel bad . . .cold, thirsty."  
  
"Yuri will get you some more water." She continued   
  
to bathe his face until her husband handed her a   
  
water bottle. "Here, take a few sips."  
  
Mulder tried to raise his head and found that he was   
  
too weak to manage it. Yuri reached over and held   
  
him up while Anna tilted the bottle so he could   
  
drink.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"More?"  
  
"Not now."  
  
"How is your pain?"  
  
Mulder took a quick inventory and found that there   
  
wasn't much improvement. "Same . . .hurts."  
  
"You should rest some more. We are about half-way   
  
there and you will need your strength when we reach   
  
the city."  
  
"Our money is almost gone. We will have to walk to   
  
your embassy," Yuri supplied, watching his wife   
  
minister to the stranger.  
  
"'Kay, I'll make it."  
  
"Yes, you are a strong man to escape the gulag, but a   
  
little more rest wouldn't hurt," Anna decided.  
  
Mulder agreed. He was going to need a lot of rest   
  
just to make it off the train.  
  
Several hours later Anna shook Mulder awake. "It is   
  
time to take more medicine."  
  
He made a face but dutifully took the tablet and   
  
swallowed almost half a bottle of water. "Thanks.   
  
How much longer?"  
  
"Maybe ten hours. You still have time to rest."  
  
Mulder shook his head no and pushed himself up. "I   
  
need to sit up for a while." He looked around and   
  
saw that Yuri and Grisha were gone.  
  
"My men were restless. They went for a walk." She   
  
reached up to feel the agent's forehead. "Your fever   
  
is better."  
  
"I feel a little stronger," he volunteered, flexing   
  
his left arm with a wince. "Still sore, but   
  
improving."  
  
"That is good. Have you thought . . .what your plans   
  
are when we reach the city?"  
  
"If you have enough money for a pay phone I can make   
  
a call, get us some transportation."  
  
"We have enough," she assured him, rubbing his   
  
shoulder in a comforting, yet familiar way.  
  
He found her world-weary eyes and held them with his   
  
own. "Anna, I know you're worried, but I wouldn't   
  
lie to you. I can get someone to help you start over   
  
in a different place."  
  
"America?"  
  
"I can't promise that, but somewhere nice where you   
  
won't have to worry about the tests." He hoped there   
  
was such a place.  
  
"How will we support ourselves?"  
  
Mulder was forced to smile at her persistence. She   
  
reminded him so much of Scully.  
  
"You'll take on new names and identities. A job or   
  
training will be provided, but until you're ready to   
  
make it on your own you'll receive assistance in the   
  
form of food, money and transportation."  
  
Anna looked relieved and her eyes held a flicker of   
  
hope, but she was still curious. "Do you think I   
  
could become a nurse?"  
  
He gave her a tired smile. "I don't see why not.   
  
You're a natural." The agent's voice was getting   
  
weaker, the conversation sapping his strength.  
  
Anna quickly recognized his distress. She took him   
  
by the shoulders and helped him ease down until he   
  
was flat on his back once again. "Sorry," he gasped.  
  
"You say sorry too much." She tucked the blanket   
  
around him and smiled.  
  
"Sor . . .right, I do."  
  
"Rest now."  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Mulder woke to the sounds of anguished screams. He   
  
attempted to look around, to figure out where he was,   
  
but found that he was unable to move. Something was   
  
pressing down on him, holding him in place. The   
  
wails grew louder as a black substance began to drip   
  
from a pipe above. Shit! He was back at the gulag!   
  
What had happened to Anna and Yuri? He found himself   
  
praying that they would leave Grisha alone.  
  
A drop of the black, oily substance landed on his   
  
nose. He tried to avoid the liquid, struggling   
  
against the chicken wire holding him in place to no   
  
avail. Soon his screams joined with the others.  
  
Something heavy clamped onto his shoulders, forcing   
  
him to open his eyes and see what new torture was   
  
being inflicted on him. His vision was blurry due to   
  
the black oil that had fallen into his eyes, but he   
  
thought he could make out several figures. They were   
  
talking but sounded far away. His heart racing,   
  
breath ragged in his ears, he forced himself to   
  
listen to what was being said. Someone was shaking   
  
him and he tried desperately to avoid his grasp.  
  
"Nononono!"  
  
"Wake up! Mulder! You are worse?" Yuri questioned,   
  
quickly withdrawing his hand upon seeing the sick   
  
man's distress. His eyes were wild, his breath   
  
labored, obviously somewhere else entirely. It   
  
wasn't too difficult to guess what dreams held the   
  
pale American in their grip.  
  
Mulder took a few seconds to orient himself before he   
  
answered. "Bad dream." He pushed up from his   
  
reclining position, tearing away the blanket that was   
  
cocooning his body. He wiped the perspiration from   
  
his face with a corner of the cover. "Hot."  
  
Yuri handed him a bottle of water. "Don't drink too   
  
much. That is the only bottle left."  
  
Mulder took a couple of gulps and screwed the top   
  
back on. "Where's Anna?"  
  
"With the boy trying to buy some food."  
  
Mulder nodded his understanding and suddenly felt   
  
uncomfortable when he found Yuri staring at him.  
  
"Yuri, what's wrong?"  
  
"You told Anna she could be a nurse. That has been   
  
her dream since she was a girl. You do not tell her   
  
lies about that?"  
  
"No, Yuri. I didn't lie. If that's what she wants   
  
to do I'll make sure she has a chance to go back to   
  
school."  
  
"I'll hold you to that. She has made many   
  
sacrifices. Too many. It is time for her to have a   
  
good life."  
  
"I couldn't agree more," Mulder assured him, lying   
  
back against the seat with a sigh.  
  
The door began to open and both men tensed, expecting   
  
the gulag goons to have found them. Both sighed in   
  
relief as Anna and Grisha walked in. He held several   
  
sandwiches in his remaining hand while Anna brought   
  
up the rear bearing oranges. The men smiled and made   
  
room for the scavengers.  
  
The sandwiches were simple fare, some kind of fruit   
  
preserves on buttered bread. The oranges were a true   
  
delight. Plump and juicy, they were just sweet   
  
enough to leave them wanting more.  
  
"Sorry, but I had to keep back money for the phone.   
  
I couldn't afford more."  
  
"That's okay, Anna," Mulder smiled. "We'll have a   
  
good meal in St. Petersburg. This will tide us over   
  
nicely."  
  
"How are you feeling? The fever is better?"  
  
"Yes, I think so. My arm feels better and I don't   
  
ache as much." He made an effort to stand up but   
  
sank back weakly.  
  
"Guess I feel worse than I thought," The FBI agent   
  
sighed and tried to regain his footing once again.   
  
This time Yuri was there to steady him.  
  
"You need the restroom?" The big Russian had noticed   
  
Mulder's fidgeting while they ate.  
  
"Yes, I do."  
  
"Then I will go with you in case someone tries to   
  
speak to you. Your Russian is not good."  
  
"My Russian is non-existent," Mulder grinned.  
  
"I was trying to be polite," Yuri grinned back.  
  
The walk through the train helped to clear some of   
  
the cobwebs from his head. Though still somewhat   
  
weak, Mulder realized that he was feeling much   
  
better. The fever was gone and the joint pain was   
  
just a dull ache. He winced as he moved his left   
  
arm. It was still pretty painful, but bearable.   
  
Right now he'd almost kill for a shower, but that   
  
would have to wait.  
  
When they returned to their compartment, Grisha began   
  
to ask Mulder questions in halting English. Shy at   
  
first, after a few minutes the Russian youth was   
  
bombarding him with inquiries about food, sports,   
  
clothing and any other thing he could think of   
  
concerning his new life.  
  
"Grisha, I hope you get to live in the Washington,   
  
D.C. area because I'd really like to take you to some   
  
college and professional ball games." The FBI agent   
  
smiled kindly.  
  
Grisha nodded his approval then a wistful look took   
  
over his features as he looked at what remained of   
  
his arm. Mulder noticed the change of expression and   
  
could tell that the boy was thinking of all the   
  
activities that he could never experience.  
  
Before saying anything else, Mulder took a few   
  
moments to choose his words carefully then decided   
  
that he didn't need to be so cautious. His father   
  
had left the major portion of his estate to him and   
  
he would make it happen,period! A warm feeling   
  
spread through his chilled bones at the thought.   
  
Something good would come of this whole, evil mess if   
  
nothing else.   
  
"Grisha, as soon as you get settled, no matter where   
  
you live, you will be the owner of a new, state-of-   
  
the-art prosthesis." There, his promise was out in   
  
the open.  
  
The little Russian family looked confused. Although   
  
their conversational English was quite good, their   
  
vocabulary was rather limited. "What that means is   
  
that Grisha will have the finest artificial arm   
  
available."  
  
The looks of confusion turned to cries of joy as Anna   
  
hugged Mulder tightly. Yuri clapped him soundly on   
  
the back while tears of happiness flowed from   
  
Grisha's eyes.  
  
Mulder noted sadly that it was the first time he had   
  
seen them truly happy since he had met them. He   
  
hoped that he could be responsible for keeping that   
  
grin on their faces. That money was just sitting   
  
around drawing interest. It was only right that his   
  
inheritance should be used to help right some of the   
  
wrongs his father had caused, even if the older   
  
Mulder hadn't been directly involved.  
  
"Mulder, you're sure?" Yuri asked cautiously.  
  
"You have my word," Mulder promised solemnly.  
  
The next few hours were spent resting. Mulder first   
  
listened to their excited chattering in Russian then   
  
nodded off. He felt someone gently shake his   
  
shoulder, rousing him. "Wake up, Mulder."  
  
The tired traveler yawned and stretched as Anna's   
  
face came into focus. "What? Is it time?"  
  
"We will be there in about an hour," Anna informed   
  
him. "How are you feeling?"  
  
Once again he took stock of his physical state. The   
  
omni-present headache had faded to a dull throb   
  
behind his eyes. Once so stiff and sore that every   
  
bounce of the train had caused intense pain, his   
  
joints were almost back to normal. No fever, chills   
  
or nausea could be detected leaving only one more   
  
area to analyze, his left arm. After cautiously   
  
flexing it, the American smiled. "Everything is much   
  
better. Thank you for taking care of me. I think I   
  
would have died if you hadn't taken me in and nursed   
  
me back to health."  
  
"Perhaps it wouldn't have been that terrible on your   
  
own, but we were happy to assist."  
  
The last hour of travel was spent planning what he   
  
would say to his United Nations contact, Marita   
  
Covarrubias. Normally able to make his wishes known   
  
to others quite easily, Mulder realized that the   
  
wellbeing of his rescuers depended on his ability to   
  
convince his contact that they deserved asylum.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Mulder leaned back and relaxed for the first time in   
  
days. Of course, the luxurious limousine made that a   
  
lot easier. He opened the bar and looked over the   
  
offerings. Settling on bottled orange juice, his   
  
thoughts went to the Quadavitch family. They were   
  
traveling in another fancy car heading for a   
  
different embassy.  
  
Even though his U.N. contact had promised eventual   
  
relocation in the United States, she felt it would be   
  
much safer to split up at the train station. He   
  
sighed and twisted the cap off the orange juice and   
  
drained it in a few swallows. He really needed the   
  
Vitamin C after his adventures. Disposing of that   
  
bottle, he quickly searched the bar for another. His   
  
illness had left him slightly dehydrated and his body   
  
was demanding that its fluids be replenished. The   
  
cold liquid went down easily.  
  
Hopefully it wouldn't take him too long to reclaim   
  
his ID and passport from the American embassy.   
  
Mulder's body was reminding him of the lack of proper   
  
food, water and sanitary conditions that he had   
  
suffered through over the past few days.  
  
Krycek entered his thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome.   
  
He vowed to find that son of a bitch and punish him   
  
for all the indignities he'd suffered since his   
  
arrival on Russian soil and after that he'd punish   
  
him some more for killing his father and the part he   
  
played in Melissa's death and Scully's abduction.  
  
Scully. How he missed her. He couldn't wait to get   
  
back to D.C. and give her a hug, grateful that he was   
  
still alive and had two arms to do it. There was so   
  
much to tell her.  
  
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX  
  
Three months later Mulder entered the basement office   
  
after raiding the snack cart upstairs. Scully hung   
  
up the phone as he laid a bagel in front of her.  
  
"That was security, Mulder. It seems that you have   
  
some visitors," Scully stated.  
  
"Oh? That's odd. No one ever visits me. Did the   
  
officer give a name?"  
  
"He said it was the Smirnoff family and they spoke   
  
with heavy Russian accents."  
  
Mulder's eyes lit up. "Scully, come with me. You've   
  
got to meet these people. They're the ones who   
  
literally saved my life in Russia. My contact came   
  
through and managed to get them to the states and get   
  
them new identities."  
  
"I'd love to meet them, Mulder." Scully rose from   
  
her seat and pulled on her jacket. "I'd like to   
  
thank them for bringing you back to me." She smiled   
  
broadly and cupped his left cheek with her hand,   
  
savoring his beautiful eyes and smile, realizing how   
  
close she had come to loosing him yet again but for   
  
the kind people they were about to meet. Several   
  
emotions sifted through his gaze and then she smiled   
  
again  
  
Mulder paused then opened the door for her. Their   
  
hands met unconsciously, the light pressure of her   
  
squeezing his hand suddenly made his face break out   
  
in a smile too. "I'm so glad they did."  
  
The agents made their way to the elevator, Mulder   
  
gently guiding Scully with his hand at her back.  
  
End 


End file.
